


we want to live like trees

by red_lasbelin



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Sailing To Valinor, finding roots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_lasbelin/pseuds/red_lasbelin
Summary: Tauriel tries to stare down the sea.





	we want to live like trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tallulah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah/gifts).



> My prompt was: _winter, wet, cold, something from a poem by Adrienne Rich, the smell of wet firewood. If it's set near the sea, I'd like it to be windy and cold._
> 
> I couldn't resist this prompt, Tal. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this.

 

__________

Tauriel stands on the shore and watches the sun fade from the horizon. She marvels at the quickness, here but for a handful of moments and then gone. Many times she climbed to the treetops to watch this, but this time is different, sinking into the endless line of deep blue rather than the jagged edges of the Misty Mountains. It is unsettling.

The wind has grown in strength in the past hour, carrying with it the briny salt smell and the cold. Stark and unforgiving, the wind is unbroken by the thick canopy of ancient trees or the stone walls of her people’s caves. Ever since they arrived in the Grey Havens and the adrenaline of the journey ebbed away like the tides, there is an ache in her stomach like a knot of driftwood.

Driftwood. She found her first piece of it that morning and it is something her mind returns to again and again. It looked like no wood she had ever known, grey and worn smooth, twisted into shape by the sea water and stiffened by minerals. As a child, she heard the tales, of course, of people crossing the sea to come here. She has also watched people leave - to the havens, to the sea – fleeing the darkness. But knowing people sailed to and from the far distant shore and coming face to face with that vast, starkly cold element is different. She wonders if she will be like driftwood too, turned and tossed around on the sea, changed forever.

She is so distracted by her thoughts and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that she does not hear footsteps, the sound of someone joining her.

“You cannot stare down the sea, though it is very like you to try.”

Nordhiel’s voice is rich and amused, a summer warmth to it that Tauriel has come to understand is just for her. She pulls her gaze away from the magnetic waves and focuses on the woman before her.

“It is – beyond what I had imagined.” The words are inadequate, she knows. Legolas wrote to her of the sea longing, the piercing sounds of the gulls and the pull away from their homeland to the great hither shores. He was always better with words than her. “Maybe I can grasp it if I just keep looking.”

“I saw it once before myself, a long time ago. Even with all the examining then, I still don’t think I understand it any better.” Nordhiel slips her hand into Tauriel’s, and she realizes she has lost track of how long she has been out here, walking along the shoreline.

“I’m sorry, my hands are cold. It’s different, all this damp.”

“Do you think I mind?” Nordhiel tells her with a shake of her dark hair. “I thought you might come inside eventually, but you never did. So I thought I should find you."

“Came just in time, I was about to round up two horses for a quick escape back to home.” It’s a joke, she means it as a joke, but there’s a naked edge impossible to miss.

Nordhiel opens her mouth to speak; Tauriel sees the words on her tongue, but then they are gone, left unspoken. She does not have to say anything, Tauriel already knows. The remains of their home together are packed into a few bags, the rest that did not fit given away to be used by other people. Mirkwood – she had always hated that name – no, Eryn Lasgalen is free of the darkness, the rot that had encroached upon her very home, cleared away by her, her king, Celeborn and others. But the world has changed. Thranduil is leading the last few of their people across the sea. There should have been more of them, but they had lost so many over the years: some to Ithilien, some to the call of the seas, many to the Halls.

“There is no road back.” Nordhiel says finally. “The signs are all around us. It is time to leave.”

Tauriel shakes her head. She digs her feet into the sand, wishing for the ability to grow roots of her own, dig deep and stay. It is a futile endeavor. The sand is different than the dirt she is used to as well, hard for trees she knows to thrive.

“Will you miss it?”

“Of course.” Nordhiel pushes a little against Tauriel’s arm, a hint to be held. “You are not the only one who is sad about leaving, just the one brooding about it. And I know why.”

Tauriel slides her arm round Nordhiel’s shoulders – she has always appreciated that Nordhiel is only a few inches shorter than her - and enjoys the shared heat. “Why is that?” she asks.

“Feels like you are being sent away again, someone telling you to go, leave home.”

They do not often talk about the banishment or Kili’s death. Thranduil rescinded the orders, but the damage was done, both to her heart and sense of loyalty. She left for many turns of the year after that. She wandered by herself for a while, then joined Gildor’s company. Gildor took one look at her and seemed to learn all he needed to know. From there, Imladris and the famous Homely House. It took her a long time to return.

“Maybe,” Tauriel says. “If that had not happened, I doubt I would have come to Imladris or met you.”

“No, I was never likely to be put on a diplomatic team,” Nordhiel says, light. “I would be too busy wandering off, poking around cave corners and being distracted by everything. Much better for you to come to me. Even if you were like a wounded animal at first.”

“It hurt to breathe back then.” The memory recalls the pain, and she finds the truth in the feeling, the separation from home and the wildness it left in her. “I am surprised I did not scare you off.”

She can hear the gulls crying out to each other, the pounding of the water against the shore, forceful with the wind. She almost misses when Nordhiel speaks, “You almost did. But – here I am.”

Tauriel is humbled by this. She threads her fingers through Nordhiel’s and tugs a little. “We should go inside. I have kept you out here long enough.”

 

__________

Their room is small and more cramped than cosy, but it has a stove to ward off the chill. Tauriel pulls the heavy drapes over the windows while Nordhiel lights the lamps, casting a warm glow over the room. On the small table Nordhiel spreads out their dinner: wine, flatbread, cheese and jam, some winter apples. A sharp knife - Nordhiel keeps it on her always - makes quick work of cutting the apples and cheese.

Tauriel clears out the ash from the stove and then builds the fire, coaxing it to a full flame. It takes time, but she has spent her life doing such things. She offers a small word of thanks to the trees for their wood, an old prayer her grandmother taught her mother. She closes the grate, then stands with a small groan - her knees give her more trouble than they ever used to. How the world has changed.

She is not particularly hungry, but she sits with Nordhiel and eats a little. The wine helps, warms her, flushes her face and pushes the thought of driftwood away. Nordhiel eats slowly and drinks less. There's some tension in the air, not necessarily directly between them. They fought more than a few times while packing up their lives for this final journey. Tauriel's grief has hung heavy about her, and Nordhiel during one of their fights had said she was selfish, she was not the only one who had left a home before. It was true, Nordhiel had left her life and family in Imladris to move with Tauriel back to her home, the forest kingdom. Nordhiel’s rebuke did not land well at the time, Tauriel can admit now with a lingering sense of shame; truth has a way of cutting to the bone.

But this is different. They are a day away from leaving everything they both know behind, and the time for fighting is over.

They change into their bedclothes, moving quickly because of the cold. Tauriel checks on the fire and stokes it for the night. She listens to the wind, feels the cold from the window held at bay by the warmth from the stove and the heavy cloth of the drapes. The uneasiness threatens to creep back. She blows out the lamps, then climbs under the covers to join Nordhiel. They lie there in the dark, and

Tauriel listens to the sound of Nordhiel breathing beside her. She feels so lost suddenly and reaches out for Nordhiel, her warm skin a touchstone.

Nordhiel moves closer to her in response, answering her unspoken need, and tucks her head under Tauriel’s chin, cheek pressed against her collarbone. “Oh how the wind howls,” she says softly.

The weight and length of her body grounds Tauriel, and she kisses the top of those dark curls. “It is saying the land will miss us.” Tauriel does not know how she knows this is true, but it is.

“It is saying goodbye?” Nordhiel asks. She is quiet for a moment, and then Tauriel feels her head nod. “Yes, it is.”

A wave of intense restlessness threatens to overwhelm her, dark and cold like the sea waves. She wants to run, take her chances in the cold night, leave the sea far behind her and disappear into the woods. But her people are leaving these shores. Nordhiel’s leaving to join her family across the sea. Tauriel knows her parents will be there too, eventually, if they leave the Halls of Mandos.

As much as she will miss her home, her life is deeply intertwined with Nordhiel and she cannot imagine life without her now. She breathes deeply and pushes the restlessness away. “Need you tonight.” Her voice is husky, with a shake to it that is foreign to her ears.

Nordhiel pushes up on her hands, leaning slightly over Tauriel, curls falling down over them both like a curtain. She meets Tauriel’s eyes. “I need you too.”

Tauriel unlaces the front of Nordhiel’s shift, sliding cool fingers past the material to cup one of her breasts. Her skin is warm and smooth, nipple hardening in response to the gentle circles Tauriel rubs with her thumb. The weight of it is satisfying in her hand.

Nordhiel shivers, biting her bottom lip. She leans in and finds Tauriel’s mouth with her own, kissing with a hunger that Tauriel matches. She tastes of apples and spice. Tauriel pulls her closer, spreading her legs so Nordhiel can fit between them. Nordhiel’s hand is chilly on her thigh, pushing the cotton up for better access. Tauriel swears under her breath, Nordhiel laughs. The sound is intoxicating, Tauriel moves against her hand.

They have long since learned what pleases the other and so it is a relief to touch and taste and lose herself to the love making. Much later, tired in a satisfied way and her head finally quiet, she knows her roots are right here, with this woman, wherever they may be.

Sleep comes easily after that.

 

__________

The day they sail, it is clear with a sharp cold wind off the water. There is a nervous energy among many of the passengers, but Tauriel is calm now. Nordhiel notices this in the morning and says that is just like her – fuss and fuss and then when the time comes, do what needs to be done. The driftwood Tauriel found is tucked in her satchel, and that goes below deck with everyone else’s belongings, stowed in their various cabins or shared spaces. She wonders what she will think of it after her journey’s end.

They stand by the railing, watching the gangplank removal and the ropes being cast off from their posts. Tauriel takes Nordhiel’s hand in hers as they take one last look at the place they have called home all of their lives.

Nordhiel moves, tucks her face into Tauriel’s shoulder. “I am glad you feel calm now, because all of this seems to have caught up with me.”

Tauriel wraps her arms around her, holds her. The wind tugs at their hair and clothes.

“It is only fair to trade off.” Tauriel grins a little. It feels good to protect her, to be the one soothing instead of being soothed. She brushes windblown dark curls back away from Nordhiel’s face. “Thank you for loving me. Left your home and your family for me, and you’re still here, by my side, after it all.”

Nordhiel looks up slightly at her and smiles. “It was worth it. Hard, but – worth it. I had to learn home is a place we can make for ourselves.”

“Even in a strange land, across the sea.” Tauriel tells herself this as much as to Nordhiel, the sting in her voice finally gone.

“It will not be all strange,” Nordhiel offers, and reaches between them to untie the small leather bag on her belt. She hands it to Tauriel.

Tauriel feels the contents of the bag with her hand, tossing it once, twice. She gives Nordhiel a glance to match her current puzzlement. Opening the bag, she shakes the contents out onto her hand.

“Seeds?” She does not understand at first; she has never done any sort of planting, really. Her main focus and drive was to protect her home and people, and the growing of seeds was left to others. Later, she will be teased about this moment.

“They are for us, I have collected them. My cousin even gave me some from Imladris. We will buy some land and we are going to plant trees from our home.”

Tauriel stares at her, realization washing over her like waves, feeling foolish and ridiculously happy all at once. She closes her fingers round them, holding the seeds like gold. “They will grow with us.”

Nordhiel smiles, the brilliance of it taking Tauriel’s breath away. She slips her arm into the crook of Tauriel’s and turns them, leaving behind the view of the shoreline. They stand together looking out to the horizon, towards their future. “Yes, they will grow roots and live tall. We will too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: the always lovely Keiliss


End file.
